


Matter of Fact

by cherryjam (blueskull)



Series: FFXIV Write 2020 [5]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Drabble, FFxivWrite2020, Fluff, Gen, Lalafell Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Miqo'te Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), written for ffxivwrite2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:55:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26318287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueskull/pseuds/cherryjam
Summary: “So, when are you going to confess?”"Confess what?"
Relationships: Warrior of Light & Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), some other implied relationships but not relevant
Series: FFXIV Write 2020 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1913422
Kudos: 2





	Matter of Fact

**Author's Note:**

> Illya belongs to [afflatussolace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/afflatussolace).

“So, when are you going to confess?” the miqo’te asks as she flops down onto her bed in their shared inn room, staring at her lalafellin companion as she brushes a comb through her long, white hair.

“Confess what?” Illya asks, avoiding the question entirely.

While it isn’t a very _new_ question, all things considered, it _has_ been a while since Laurelis has asked it. But you can’t blame her when it’s so very torturous to watch her best friend and her sort-of-but-not-quite suitor dance around one another. It’s painfully obvious to nearly everyone that the two don’t see one another as simply some passing fancy, nor as merely colleagues.

“You know what I’m talking about!” Laurelis huffs, turning over onto her stomach. “Your feelings, for Alphinaud.”

Illya flushes slightly as she shakes her head. “You know I can’t do that, Laurelis.” Her violet eyes are downcast. “It will just...r-ruin our relationship. I’m sure he doesn’t feel the same.”

A pained groan leaves the miqo’te as she rolls heterochromatic eyes. “How _can_ you be so sure?” she asks. “Everyone sees it. Except you.”

“A-and how can _you_ be sure?” her best friend replies, shaking her head lightly again. Her thin fingers move to braid her pale hair. “You can’t possibly know that.”

It always goes like this. Laurelis brings it up, and Illya shoots her down, postulating _what-ifs_ and suppositions and arguing, quietly, that it can’t possibly be true that Alphinaud feels anything even approaching to her own, supposedly unrequited feelings. But that’s the point, isn’t it?

“You shouldn’t make assumptions about his feelings for me,” the younger girl continues quietly, moving on to her other braid. “It won’t -- he won’t feel the same.”

“I’m not _guessing_ ,” Laurelis says, annoyed. “It’s not a _guess_ , it’s a matter of fact. He’s head over heels for you! Even _Haurchefant_ thinks so!”

“And what of you and Haurchefant? Have you confessed your feelings, yet?”

A smattering of pink rises to the miqo’te’s cheeks. “N-n-no, there’s nothing to confess!”

And again, their conversation is dropped, unfinished and unsettled as always.


End file.
